


And this Great Blue World of Ours Timestamp I: Michael

by vailkagami



Series: Great Blue World [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, references to non-consensual sex between Sam and Michael in Dean's body
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-17
Updated: 2012-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-12 08:56:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/489079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vailkagami/pseuds/vailkagami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael hates Sam Winchester. His actions, however, are in no way influenced by that emotion.</p><p>The aftermath of a certain scene from  chapter 10 of my story <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/489041/chapters/853190">And this Great Blue World of Ours</a> from Michael's point of view. This timestamp will make no sense at all unless you're familiar with the story it belongs to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And this Great Blue World of Ours Timestamp I: Michael

It was pathetic how slow these human bodies moved. Sometimes Michael wondered how his fallen brother could stand it as he looked over and saw Castiel running up the slope, not much closer than he was five minutes ago.

The leader of the heavenly host stood tall and did nothing to hide his presence. Castiel was close enough to see him now and when he looked up he did. Because Michael was an archangel in his most powerful vessel he could easily see the surprise and shock on his former brother’s face, while to Castiel he was nothing more than a distant outline in front of a dirty sky.

Still, some of the old nature remained in the fallen one. Unlike a true human, Castiel’s strength did not run out easily. He didn’t have to slow or stop for breath, and still Michael estimated another ten minutes and fourteen seconds until he would reach the cliff.

Spontaneously, the first general of Heaven decided to wait. He crouched down beside Sam Winchester’s still form and looked at it contemplatively.

This was his brother’s body, the one Lucifer was supposed to wear. It had been created only for him and this pathetic human vermin had no right to demand it for himself. And yet he refused to give it up – to give _himself_ up, even though his life had never been his to begin with.

Once again, hatred welled up in Michael. It made him want to tear Sam apart, hurt him worse than he had ever been hurt before, but he did nothing of the kind. This was not a matter of personal feelings, it was a matter of how things had to be to follow their Father’s will. When Michael hurt Sam, it was because necessity demanded it, not to satisfy his negative emotions towards this boy.

Only humans acted on emotions. Humans and demons, and angels that were weak, flawed. Not deserving of being called angels anymore.

Angels like Lucifer.

Michael reached out and ran a hand through Sam’s dirty hair. Imagining his little brother in this form, he gently caressed the hollow cheek, overcome by a surge of longing that only served to further fuel his hatred.

Longing equally for his brother’s presence and for the moment he would finally end Lucifer’s life as punishment for turning against their Father’s will, Michael was no stranger to conflicted emotions. They never, however, influenced his decisions. He knew which path he had to follow and would follow it to the end because it was right.

Sam did not react to the physical contact. He had passed out after Michael had finished with him but he was alive. The archangel placed his fingers on the thin neck and for a moment considered breaking it before deciding against it. He had only recently made sure that Sam’s soul could not enter Heaven and was instead sent to Hell whenever he died. While Sam did not remember his time in Hell (not yet) the experience would wear down his defences nonetheless – but it would also overshadow what Michael had just done to him and in this case the angel decided that what he had done would be the more effective weapon.

A soft breeze picked up and played with Sam’s long hair. The boy didn’t stir. He was half-naked, bruised, his legs spread obscenely to allow clear sight of the blood and semen sticking to his thighs. One look at him would be enough for anyone to understand what had happened.

Sensing Castiel was close enough, Michael stood from his crouching position and began to tug his shirt back into his pants, in plain view of the fallen angel so there would be no room for misunderstandings. He then sat on a stone a few feet from Sam and once again let muscle memory guide him into holding his body the way Dean Winchester used to when it was his.

Nine minutes and three seconds after Michael had made his estimation, Castiel reached the top of the slope. It was amusing to see him try to divide his attention between his unconscious friend and the man he had not seen in years and did not trust.

Though he kept an eye on “Dean” constantly, Castiel did not hesitate to run to Sam’s side and make sure he was breathing. His face barely gave anything away – a human would not have been able to read his expression, but to Michael it clearly showed despair, concern and anger. When he looked up to glare at the archangel, his expression was so dark that Michael almost made a comment on how human he had become. But he was playing Dean right now, and Dean would not do that.

“Hey Cas,” he said instead. “Long time no see.”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed and he looked at Michael again. Took in the stance, the grim smirk on his face. The blood on his hands.

“No,” he said.

“’No’ what?” Michael snapped. “You’re going to act like Sammy now? Pretend it isn’t me because that would be so much nicer? Well, deal with it: This is what you’ve been trying to save!” Aggression and bitterness as a thin veil over self-loathing. Dean’s low self-esteem had been one of the keys to breaking him. It was a tone Michael could only imitate because he knew his vessel intimately, in and out.

“Dean wouldn’t do this,” Castiel insisted, but he sounded less certain than Sam had been. “Especially not to Sam.”

“Especially not to Sam?” Michael echoed in Dean’s voice. “You think I’d do this to anyone else? You think I _like_ doing something like this? It’s the two of you who pushed me into this. It’s what I had to resort to to finally get the message into your thick heads!” His eyes burned with wilfully summoned tears. No, Dean would not have enjoyed this. But he had not enjoyed a lot of things he had done in his life yet always did what was necessary. He and Michael were very alike, after all.

Castiel didn’t say anything. He only stared at Michael, but the archangel could sense his brittle conviction crack further. His face was pale and his eyes wide. A pitiful sight.

“He got what was coming for him.” Michael let his voice break and ran his hand over his eyes in an angry gesture. “It’s Sam’s fault I became this. His and yours!” He stopped and made a show of pulling himself together. “Please, Cas,” he said in a much softer voice. “Leave me alone. Give the fuck up. Don’t you see? The only way for all of us out of this is Sam saying yes. Yes, the world will end – but all the people now suffering would go to paradise. _Sam_ would go to paradise. Don’t sacrifice his soul for nothing.”

“Like you did?” Castiel spat without thinking. Michael very nearly smiled. Instead, he straightened and stood, letting his expression go blank.

“I think this is quite enough of that,” he said in Enochian and a voice very much his own.

“Michael,” Castiel hissed, understanding at once – though it was not appropriate for an angel, even a fallen once, to say his name with quite this much venom. “This was your doing!”

“It was not,” Michael denied. “I merely did not prevent it.”

“Dean would not do that. Not out of his own free will.”

“I seem to recall that there were many things you did not believe Dean would do,” Michael reminded him. “You fell because you placed so much trust in him. And yet he said yes to me when you thought he wouldn’t.”

“He was driven to it.” Castiel tried to defend his friend.

“Indeed he was. He was driven to it by his brother, and by his conviction that it was the best thing to do. But while he was right to do it, I regret having to admit that it is not a pleasant experience for him. He blames Sam. And he desperately wishes the two of you would finally realise that our way is the only way to end this. Sam must give in. And he _must_ understand that Dean is not coming back.”

“The same old words,” Castiel said bitterly. He began to carefully run his hands over Sam’s body, checking for broken bones Michael knew he would find. “But they are your words, not Dean’s.”

“It is true,” Michael admitted. “Anger and bitterness were Dean’s main motivators. But I owed it to him to let him have this. And I admit that I did hope it would make Sam see. Dean is lost to him. There is nothing to hold on for.”

“Like Lucifer is lost to you?”

The question was spoken in a sneer of hostility. Michael nearly responded likewise, except he would have used power instead of words and left the other burned to a crisp. But right this moment he needed Castiel; so he suppressed his fury and only threw his fallen brother an icy glance before he left.

The leader of the heavenly host did not allow his actions to be dictated by emotions.

Eventually, he would destroy Castiel if Sam kept up his stubborn and disrespectful refusal of the Father’s plan. The loss would take away Sam’s only support and weaken his resolve considerably. But right now, Castiel was more useful alive.

Because Michael hadn’t been able to convince Sam that the one who had hurt him had really been Dean. Sam’s trust in his brother, even after all that had happened, was strong. It was not denial – denial would have been easy to break. This was faith, plain and simple.

Castiel, however, had doubted. He had denied because he feared it was true. And if Castiel believed it was true, he would be able to shake Sam’s faith much better than anything Michael did ever could.

Stepping out of a forest near the ruins of Tôkyô, Michael spared a thought for his own brother, then wilfully pushed it aside. Lucifer had betrayed him long ago and deserved no doubt. He had chosen his path, as Michael had accepted his. Their relationship was much clearer, much easier than that of the Winchester brothers.

The mere thought of Dean’s brother was enough to make Michael’s anger rise. Sam was ruining everything, drawing this whole charade out much longer than it had to go. And Michael didn’t understand why. Yes, Sam was tainted by demon blood and destined for dark things. But it was all part of the heavenly plan. His fate had been designed for him to play a certain role he so far failed to fill. It was even harder to understand in regard to the fact that Sam used to have faith in God and his angels. He should have been much more willing to accept the will of Heaven than his brother was. The revelation that angels did exist should have cemented his faith and made him their eager follower, instead of turning him against them.

He was a contradictory creature Michael could not begin to fathom. While the archangel was no stranger to conflicted emotions, contradictions in actions did not exist in his word. Everything was straight lines and clear structures. The Father’s will had to be followed. Disobedience could not be abided. Heaven was the side of Good and everything the angels did followed a greater plan that could not be questioned even if it was not immediately obvious. Lack of faith was unforgivable.

Betrayal was unforgivable, and annihilation a just punishment. The fact that Michael still loved his younger brother did not matter at all in face of the knowledge that Lucifer had to die. Michael would deliver the punishment willingly, once again. And it would finally, finally be over.

And Lucifer, in those final moments of his, would be in his destined vessel while Sam Winchester, as a person, wouldn’t be around anymore to steal any of his attention. Attention that had to be wasted on the stubborn human when it should be on Michael alone.

It _would_ be on Michael alone, in that final moment when everything reached its inevitable conclusion.

Michael’s hatred of Sam Winchester was of the same intensity as his love for Lucifer. But he would never sink so low as to let either of these emotions influence his actions.

 


End file.
